


More Prayer Than Proclamation

by ElectricMarrow



Category: Original Work, The Luck Of The Draw
Genre: Alcohol, Birthday Party, Birthday Presents, F/F, i just love these two is all, i knocked this out all in one night after taking a gatorade, whether it's good or not is up to g-d!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-18 18:27:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28996710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElectricMarrow/pseuds/ElectricMarrow
Summary: A second of stifled laughter, and brown eyes met blue as Phoebe Diaz procured a finger full of flame to set ablaze the wick of a lopsided candle, the tip of her blackened fingernails barely gracing Audrey Cerise's chin the second just before it was set alight.
Relationships: Cherrybomb/Phoenix, Fire Brigade - Relationship, Phoebe Diaz/Audrey Cerise





	More Prayer Than Proclamation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reywrite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reywrite/gifts).



> Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Audrey...

"Oh, oops, move back just a little—"

"Right, yeah—"

A second of stifled laughter, and brown eyes met blue as Phoebe Diaz procured a finger full of flame to set ablaze the wick of a lopsided candle, the tip of her blackened fingernails barely gracing Audrey Cerise's chin the second just before it was set alight. 

"Almost gotcha there, sorry about that—"

"Wouldn't be the /most/ birthday arson I've ever had—"

A second more of barely contained giggling, and Phoebe leaned back into her chair, the orange flame she'd managed to provide sending skittering shadows across white icing—even that was more composed than the two women, them being half-drunk on mirth and half-drunk on pinot noir.

"Well," gave the Phoenix, eschewing from villainy for one long January night to gather in the high room of a towering library, and to celebrate with all six feet of her. "Make a wish?"

Cherrybomb, second in command to the world's biggest criminal organisation, took a breath that made her cheeks puff out. She scrunched up her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and blew out the twisted wax with as much passion as she could possibly muster.

She sputtered, laughed, and found herself wishing with all her might for something she didn't know if she could say at all.

Phoebe clapped, shuffling up out of her chair already to fetch the knife for the cake. 

"I asked Brasa what power she had thataways, but she continues to say that she 'Only does fire magic, Phoebe, I am a /fire/ demon, have you noticed?'" She waved around the knife, enunciating each word in perfect imitation of her strange patron locked in stone. 

"Aw, you asked the in-law to do magic for me?" Audrey brought a hand to her chest, flashing a smile: "I'm touched." 

"It seemed sweet at the time, but /wow/, does having your requests for magic declined make you feel stupid." 

Phoebe plucked the candle out, and tucked it back into her jacket, earning only a raised eyebrow that quickly disappeared when the cake was cut into. 

"—/That/, is gorgeous," Audrey breathed, "And enough magic for me entirely."

It was red velvet, like she'd asked, and like Phoebe had clamored at the bakery window about until they opened up early. 

"Well. Cake's cake, and a birthday's a birthday, yeah? Luckily, I got something to go with it."

"Oh, you're /spoiling/ me, Phee."

"Nonsense, meu amor, spoiling you is that bonus I saw our boss slip in your purse, hm?"

"Oh, shut up, that's business."

"He kissed you on the cheek!" Phoebe strided over to the door, crouched, and attempted to wriggle a small box out of her backpack.

"So you're /jealous/, I get it."

"O que? I am /not/."

"Uh huh. Of course. 

Phoebe stuck her tongue out, and Audrey did the same; they burst into laughter again, and Phoebe let out a "merda!" upon almost dropping the parcel. 

She carried it over, laid it down, and made a small 'voila' motion towards her associate. 

"Really, Phee, it's too much—"

"Hush, cereja."

Audrey undid the ribbon, shaking her head as if she was not all too eager, and a little too curious, as to its contents. Inside sat two smaller boxes, which she let out a single nervous laugh at, and pulled gently the top one out—she lifted the lid with a gentle nail, and let out a little gasp. 

Inside sat a long, silver necklace, dark garnet set in its center and surrounded by coiling metallic thread. Cerise opened her mouth, closed it, and was forming a "thank you" with soft adoration in her eyes when her mouth was preoccupied altogether—

The Phoenix had brought a fire to her, one hand underneath her chin and the other reaching towards the corner of the box, and all of Phoebe's mouth and pitch black lipstick against hers. For a second, she started to understand what the candle had felt.

"—There, cereja. Now you don't have to say 'thank you'."

"Thanks," Audrey found herself mumbling, halfway dazed and halfway begrudging, her gratitude more of a prayer than a proclamation.

Phoebe reached down to pick up the necklace, stretching it out from end to end and doing her utmost to hide the incredible burning of her cheeks—being 'smooth' was rather rough to do, in the end. Especially, she thought, with a woman like Audrey, who had a tendency to take up every inch of her thoughts in a second flat. She was like a match to dry tinder, and she was hardly above five feet tall.

Phoebe leaned down, clasping the silver thread together at the back of Cerise's neck, carefully sliding together the tie.

Audrey found a bloom of heat just at the nape of her neck, and wriggled her shoulder in playful resistance: "That's /cheating/, Phoebe, did you know."

Phoebe removed the kiss with just a second of hesitation, her grin gracing the back of pale throat. "What, I have to play fair just because it's your birthday?"

"Yes. That's the only absolutely fair way /I/ can think of." Audrey stuck out her tongue again, her smile evident as her love was in sea-blue eyes.

"Tão? Open the other one."

Audrey leaned back in her chair, silk scrunching up around her waist and catching the dim yellow lamp-light; she reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, and found the woman beside her reaching it before she did. 

"...I don't see what could top stolen goods."

"Homemade ones?"

She raised a strawberry-blonde eyebrow, and Phoebe responded with a metal-studded one waggling. 

"I love you."

She said it without quite thinking, and yet as if she hadn't said it a dozen times before. Phoebe heard it without quite thinking, and still the same as if she hadn't heard it a dozen times before.

"I love you too," said Diaz, more like a spell than a statement, more prayer than proclamation.

Audrey opened the box, and gazed down at a dozen fruit tarts. She raised her eyes to Phoebe's, and the cook burst straight into laughter.

"You built it up too much," spat Phoebe, through rollicking laughter, her shoulders shaking. "You put up all this suspense, estúpida, linda, christ."

"No, shut up, stop laughing! You made me something!" Audrey shoved at her, no match for brassy mirth and eyes burning amber-bright with joy. 

"It's funny, you can laugh!" choked out Phoebe, almost doubling over by the time Audrey sunk her teeth into a tart. 

"—Oh, shit." Blue eyes widened, and Audrey's face went stony.

"Fuck, are they—are they no good?" Phoebe's laughter stopped in its tracks, bringing her face level with the other's, eyes drawn tight with concern.

"They're /fantastic/," exclaimed Audrey, giving Phoebe another shove and breaking into vengeful snickering. 

"Oh, fuck youuuu," and Phoebe was attempting to snatch the box back already, just barely missing her opportunity before tiny hands sequestered it away.

"I /got/ you, I did, I—" 

Audrey, this time, was the one who had her opportunity taken away from her once more. Not the sort of stolen opportunity of a dozen toxic hands before her, not futures crushed or dreams trampled, but laughter liberated from her mouth by a tongue tasting of dark wine. An opportunity taken away and paid back for with a thousand bright futures, and Phoebe was laughing against her mouth.

"Cheating," Audrey said, barely above a whisper.

Phoebe laughed, one more time. "Happy birthday,” she murmured, far more prayer than proclamation. “Happy birthday.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad you're around this January for me to be writing you this. You're the red velvet cake of people.


End file.
